


why shouldn't we fall in love?

by MJ_Oswald



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Homophobic Language, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, POV Bucky Barnes, Pearl Harbor - Freeform, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, World War II, implied bi!bucky, implied bi!steve, mentions of handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJ_Oswald/pseuds/MJ_Oswald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On December 6th, 1941 Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers share a drunken kiss in the back of an alley.<br/>The next day America goes to war, and James Buchanan Barnes follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	why shouldn't we fall in love?

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from "Let's fall in Love" by Frank Sinatra, which kind of made me suddenly write this fic. (My fingers hurt from all the typing.)  
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the story!

  
“C’mon Steve, you’re supposed to be the sensible one.”

“It’s perfectly sensible to get drunk right now.”

“Whoa there little man.” Bucky said, spinning himself so he was in front of a very flushed Steve, who was walking so fast he ran right into him and Bucky, gently, pushed him back at an arm’s length.

“While I always admire getting drunk and think it fits into any situation, especially one like this, do you really think it’s good to get drunk angry? I mean, c’mon Steve, you’re already a kinda angry drunk.” Bucky spoke, trying to use the calming, reasonable voice his Ma always would use on him when he was throwing a temper tantrum when he was a kid.

This was kind of the same thing, except they were not kids, they were twenty-three dealing with the fact their landlord was going to evict them in a week if they did not come up with the rent, which was hard. Sure, Bucky got some cash at the docks and Steve sold some artwork off the streets for a couple of bucks, but they did not even have anything close to what they needed for the rent. Both Steve and Bucky agreed that asking Bucky’s parents for some cash was out of the question.

“I’m not an angry drunk! I’m fine when it’s you and me, maybe some others I get along with. It’s not my fault all the guys in bars are jerks.” Steve told Bucky, crossing his arms. With his size, he actually did look like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“Fine. An emotional drunk. Whole point is, it’s not a good idea to get drunk angry! I speak from experience.” Bucky explained, but obviously this was not going to change Steve’s mind. When Steve set his mind onto something it was stuck there, and it was impossible to move. Bucky could not count on both hands how many time Steve stayed up until dawn drawing some inspiration he had during dinner.

“Bucky, I just found out that we have a week to pay rent with money that we don’t have otherwise we get evicted, and it’s not like anyone is buying drawings of sunsets right now, and I need a drink. If you don’t want to join, I will see you back at the apartment.” Steve shouted, pushing past Bucky and hurrying down the sidewalk. Bucky hung his head and let out a sigh.

He should just let him go off on his own, serves him right to drink alone, the giant idiot. Bucky had things to deal with to as well as the eviction notice. The world did not always have to revolve around Steve Rogers.

The thing was, Bucky’s world did revolve around him, and he knew the asshole was either going to get beaten to death in an alley or pass out on the street without him.

“Wait up!” Bucky called after him, jogging to catch up.

***

“Come to think of it, maybe we should have saved the money for the rent, instead of buyin’ beer.” Steve slurred. Bucky shook his head.

“Why bother? It’s not like we can come up with the money anyway. Might as well do something we like.” Bucky replied, his words blurring together like the world around him.

“True. True.” Steve agreed, taking another sip of beer, “At least here ya know the guy, so we get it cheaper.”

“Exactly.” Bucky said.

The bartender approached the pair.

“Another round?” he asked them. This would be their fourth round of the night. Or was it their fifth? Bucky couldn’t really remember.

Both Steve and Bucky nodded and the man went to the back to get more.

“Ya know what Steve, this was a fantastic idea. Glad you talked me into it.” Bucky said before chugging down the last of his beer.

“I’m glad you ran after me. Would’a been lonely gettin’ this drunk alone.” Steve admitted. Bucky noticed how much more pungent Steve’s Brooklyn accent got when he was drunk, to the point where he sounded like the way Bucky always sounded.

“ ‘Course I ran after you. Can’t just let your stupid ass get thrown in some gutter, what are friends for if they can’t stop you from gettin’ thrown in gutters? Useless friends. Bad friends.” Bucky wagged his finger and put a fake scowl on his face and Steve started laughing, which made Bucky smile. He liked making Steve laugh, it sounded so light, but a little breathy too. It made Bucky light up inside.

“Here you fellas go. Will you be wanting anything else?” The bartender appeared again, setting down two mugs of foamy beer. Bucky shook his head and pulled out his wallet, getting a few bills out and handing it to the man.

“This will be good. Last round then me and my friend turn in.” Bucky told him. The man took the money and headed off to tend to other customers. Bucky picked up his beer and Steve picked up his.

“To friendship!” Steve shouted drunkenly.

“To friendship!” Bucky cheered and the boys clinked their glasses together before chugging on the beers. The liquid burned Bucky’s throat on the way down.

The boys finished up the rest of the beer with a few more jokes and laughs, their cheeks rosy from the heat of the bar and drunkenness. The boys got up from their perches on the barstools, wobbling slightly on their feet. Steve waved by to the bartender and the pair walked out of the bar, the cold, early December air whipping at Bucky’s cheeks and nose.

They walked back up the street towards their apartment, sometimes toppling over to the other and bursting out laughing. The sky was clear and dark. Had they not been so drunk they might have noticed the three men who followed them out of the bar and up the street.

It was when Steve tipped over to Bucky and he had to hold him up from under his armpits to keep him upright when a gruff voice called out behind them.

“Well look what we’ve found! A couple of ‘em fairies. Never seen ‘em up close like this before, and so blatant too.”

Despite the world still being blurry around him, Bucky realized just how cold it was. He could feel it creeping down his back, almost paralyzing him. It was the coldest he had ever felt.

“I’m surprised the Lord hasn’t struck ‘em down, the way they’re throwin’ it out there.” the man continued. The other men with him laughed.

“What’re you saying?” Steve spinned around to face them.

“You and your friend. Biggest fairies I ever saw. The way you walking even says it.” the man said to them.

“Steve, ignore them.” Bucky hissed under his breath. Like always, Steve did not listen.

“It’s not like we’re doing anything. Maybe you should stop acting like such an asshole.” Steve shouted at the man.

“What’d ya just say to me?” the man roared. His friends had stopped laughing.

“Just pickin’ us on the street, no better than a bully at a park.” Steve continued.

“So the tiny one just thinks he can say that to you? Might want to teach him a lesson.”

  
Before Bucky could even fully register what was going to happen, it happened. The guy, the leader, charged at Steve and punched him right in the face, knocking him to the ground.

That’s when Bucky got angry. Red clouded his vision. Through the fuzziness of the world swirling around him he saw that guy, the creep standing over Steve, who looked like a broken stick figure, trying to push himself up as the man put his foot and firmly planted it on Steve’s back.

He does not even remember the steps on how he got there, just remembered feeling of skin against his knuckles, the crack of bone, the blood, and the man’s screams as he clutched his nose while Bucky picked Steve up from his shoulders.

“Come one Steve, we gotta go!” he yelled at him. Steve shook his head a little bit and the boys took of running, hearing heavy footfalls behind them.

“Go after them!” the leader screamed.

Bucky and Steve ran up the hill, taking big gulps of the icy, dry air. They had barely ran that far and Steve was already rasping and gasping for breath. He was slowing down. Bucky had to think of something, but it was so hard. The alcohol was still clouding his mind.

“Turn left!” Steve told Bucky. He turned blindly onto another street.

“Now turn right!” Steve shouted and the pair turned. Steve shouted a few more directions like this and they kept on turning onto back streets and roads. At one point Bucky realized he could no longer hear the men’s footsteps behind them.

They reached an alley with a fire escape and leaky pipes where they finally slowed to a stop and Steve dropped against the brick wall, eyes closed and gasping. Bucky slumped down next to him, wiping the set off his forehead.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Steve caught his breath.

“Funny thing is, I’m still drunk off my ass.” Steve eventually whispered. Bucky barked out a laugh.

“Funny thing is, I’m still drunk too.” Bucky whispered back, causing Steve to also let out a laugh. It sounded really raspy, and slightly forced.

The friends lapsed into silence again, their weak smiles eventually leaving their faces.

“They called us faries.” Steve pointed out. Bucky nodded, but did not say anything.

“They don’t mean the woodland kind either, do they?” Steve questioned. Bucky nodded. Steve sighed and rested his head against the brick wall. Bucky noticed how the alley stank of urine.

“What if I actually was a queer?” Steve asked quietly, almost to himself.

“Are you?” Bucky said.

“I don’t know. I like dames. But… there are a few times I feel the way about a boy that you normally just feel for a dame. I don’t understand it really.” Steve muttered.

More silence. Bucky felt the same way as Steve, with dames and boys anyway.

He thought of Steve the way you normally should feel about a dame.

Even drunk and delirious from running Bucky could not say that.

He turned his head to look at Steve. His cheeks were still flushed pink from running and the cold, along with the tip of his nose. His dark eyelashes casted a slight shadow down his face from the streetlamp next to the street. His eyes were a dark blue, almost purple in the darkness, with purple circles under them. His lips were wet and dark red. There was a little hollow in his throat between his collarbones, a hollow Bucky had often thought of running his tongue on. He was thinking that now. Bucky was thinking about planting his lips on Steve’s red ones, imagining his hands running through Steve’s dirty blonde hair.

Steve stopped looking off into space and turned his face to Bucky’s. His head was still filled with fog. Later he would try and convince himself he had no idea what started it, ot what happened.

Bucky licked his lips and put them on Steve’s.

He pulled away after a few seconds and looked into his blue eyes.

“Are you really a queer?” Bucky asked. His voice was low and raspy.

“Definitely a little bit.” Steve whispered. “What about you?”

“Maybe just a little bit.” Bucky told him. Steve nodded then put his lips to Bucky’s, this time his mouth open. He tasted like the beer they had only been drinking a half hour earlier and smelled like sweat. it had to be the greatest feeling in the world that he was feeling in that moment.

The kiss got deeper. Bucky’s tongue was in Steve’s mouth now, gliding against his teeth. He felt feverish. All his blood had gone down to his cock, leaving his head full of nothing but the sensation that he was flying.

Steve moved away from his mouth and started kissing Bucky’s jawline.

_So this is what it’s like to kiss a boy._

Bucky had been with girls before, a lot of girls. But none of that compared to kissing Steve. It felt like the rest of the world had blurred around them, and it was just the two of them, kissing in a urine smelling alley.

Bucky moved down and started kissing Steve’s throat, slowly moving to the hollow of it. Steve’s hands were running through his hair as he gently kissed the bottom of his chin. He could feel the brush of Steve’s eyelashes against his cheek.

“I love you Bucky.” Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear. His hands moved down Bucky’s back and onto his thigh. It was almost like he was sending electric shock waves through him, making him hyper-aware of every movement made. Steve was fiddling with the buttons on Bucky’s pants. He stopped what he was doing and looked into Bucky’s eyes, his pupils blown. He was waiting for Bucky to give him permission, to say it. Bucky brought his hands to Steve’s face.

“I love you too, Steve. I’ve always did.”

Steve smiled and started kissing Bucky again, undoing the buttons on Bucky’s pants and reaching his hands in.

***

Bucky woke up alone in his bed back at his and Steve’s apartment. His head felt like someone had rammed a pick-ax right through the forehead.

There were a few seconds of blissful ignorance with the softness of his pillow and his killer headache. Then bits of what happened the night before hit him like a train. His lips on Steve’s, Steve’s hand sliding down Bucky’s pants…

_“Fuck me.” Bucky groaned._

_“Nah. We’ll probably regret it more in the morning.” Steve laughed._

Boy, was there regret.

Bucky leaped out of the bed and ran over to the cracked mirror over his crappy wooden dresser.

_Did it happen? Did it actually happen? Holy fucking shit._

He stretched his neck upwards and saw two red-purple bruises staining his neck, standing out like a lighthouse on a stormy, gray day.

“Fuck!” he hissed, kicking his dresser. He looked at his closed door, then sat on his bed, putting his head in his hands.

_How am I going to face Steve? How am I going to look at him, knowing what happened, knowing what we know? What am I going to do?_

Bucky felt like there was a balloon in his chest just waiting to pop. He could not breathe. He wondered if this is what Steve felt like all the time, unable to get air into his lungs even though there was plenty of air.

_Breathe Barnes. Breathe. Everything will be fine._

What a big, fat lie.

***

The day Bucky kissed Steve was December 6th, 1941.

When Bucky left his room, the collar of his shirt propped up, he was bracing for Steve to be sitting at their tiny, wooden table in the corner of the kitchen. Instead there was a note and the clock.

The clock said it was three o’clock in the afternoon.

It must have been a really long night.

The paper was folded into thirds with Bucky printed in Steve’s cursive handwriting.

_I can’t do this._

He opened the letter.

_Dear Bucky;_

_Sorry I’m not there when you wake up. I just need to clear my head a little bit more and think about what really happened last night._

_I know we kissed, and I know what I… did as well._

_I know this is a lot to ask, but can we just pretend that it didn’t happened? I mean, yes, if you want to talk about it when I get back, I will do that. It’s the least I can do. But after that… I don’t know. It just feels weird to talk about it. You’ve been my best friend since I was six, I just don’t know what to do (and I bet you don’t know what to do either.)_

_So I’m giving you time to think as well. I’ll try and be back before ten, and we still have the issue with the rent. *cross this bit out* Unless you don’t want to be roommates with me anymore which I completely understand.*_

_There are still some leftovers in the cupboard if you want. I’ll talk to you when I get back._

_Once again, I’m so sorry._

_-Steve_

Bucky folded up the paper again and put it under the mattress of his room. Then he went back into the kitchen and looked at the clock,

3:04pm.

This was going to be a long, bad day. Bucky could feel it.

***

Steve wound up bursting through the door at eight o’clock that night, breathing heavily with his bangs sticking to his forehead and various art papers flying out of his messenger bag.

“Steve? Steve! What happened? What’s going on?” Bucky asked worriedly. Steve held up his hand and took a few more deep breaths.

“I ran back here as soon as I heard. Haven’t you turned on the radio, Buck?”

“No. Why? Steve, what’s going on?”

Steve paused before answering.

“Japan. They bombed us. They bombed Pearl Harbor. They committed an act of terrorism against the United States.”

They did not get to talk about what happened the day before. They acted like it had never happened and comforted each other through the news, just like they always would have done.

“We’re going to join the war now.” Bucky said, handing Steve a glass of water. Steve grabbed the glass and took a big gulp of it.

“No doubt. And I’m gonna be the first man to enlist.” Steve told him.

***

_“Yesterday, December 7th, 1941, a date which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan…"_

President Roosevelt's address, signaling that America was going to war, was playing on all the radios throughout the nation. People had already began to enlist for the cause, and it had only been one day.

Neither Bucky or Steve could go out that day. Steve had gotten a really bad cold from running around everywhere, so he had to stay in, and Bucky was not just going to leave Steve by himself with a war going on.

The landlord came by and told them that he would give them a month to pay the rent, due to the tragedy that has struck the nation, but that if they did not pay by then, they would be out on the streets.

It was a whole two days later when Steve was well enough, and the first thing he wanted to do was enlist.

They still had not spoken about what happened December 6th.

All the boys were undressing so they were wearing nothing but their underpants, then they would be called up to go behind one of the curtains where a doctor would check to see if you could meet the qualifications needed for the war.

Bucky could not help but wonder if Steve wanted to join because of the fact his dad died in WWI.

“Next.” a man called and Steve stood up and walked to one of the curtains. A man left from one of the other curtains.

“Next.”

Bucky went behind the curtain.

***

“It’s just basic training, Steve. I’ll be back before you know it, plus the payment will help pay for the rent.” Bucky tried to tell Steve.

“I should be able to go. I can fight. They’re drafting a bunch of kids who don’t even want to go, but when a guy like me wants to try, they say ‘Nope. Don’t be so ungrateful, this is saving your life.’ It’s so stupid.” Steve muttered, kicking some garbage with his foot as they walked down the street.

Bucky got into the army. He would be sent out for basic training in two days. Steve had too many health problems to join.

Two days. Two days to say goodbye to his Ma and Dad. He decided to just send a telegram or have Steve tell them. He did not want to see their faces when he told them what he did.

***

“You promise to write?” Steve asked. Again.

“As often as possible.” Bucky promised. Again.

The boys stood in front of each other in their pathetic apartment. It looked so bleak and gray. Bucky wished he could stay there forever.

His two small bags were at his feet and wore traveling clothes for the train ride.

Bucky was trying to get a good look at Steve, to save as much of him in his memory as possible. He wanted to remember every single thing about him, every flaw, every perfection.

He also wanted to kiss him again, but he was not going to do that.

They still had not talked about what happened that night.

“Are you sure you want me to be the one to tell your parents?” Steve said.

“Absolutely. They love you, it will be good for them to hear it from you.” Bucky reassured him. Again. They had been repeating a lot of the same stuff.

Steve went up and hugged Bucky, his head just reached his shoulder. He felt so warm. Bucky did not want to let go.

But he did. Steve stepped back.

“Try to be less of a punk while I’m gone.” Bucky joked with him.

“Don’t you go be such a jerk to all the guys at your camp.” Steve joked back.

The boys stood there for a moment and Bucky picked up his bags, throwing them over his shoulder. He was just about to walk out the door when Steve spoke.

“You remember what happened, right?”

Bucky stopped.

“A little bit.” he answered.

“I know we’re not really going to talk about it.. but… you will keep remembering it. Won’t you?”

Bucky turned his head and looked at Steve. Little Steve, who looked like he was made of sticks with straw stuck in his head, who told him that he loved Bucky.

Bucky smiled. His very first, genuine, smile ever since that night on December 6th. The smile that was just tilted to the side and seeped cockiness and flirt. The smile that made his eyes crinkle around the edges and his shoulders slope in an easy going stance.

“I always remember everything, Steve.”

Then he walked out the door.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to find me I'm at kamalacarter.tumblr.com and feel free to leave a comment or kudo for this fic! :)


End file.
